At the End of the Day
by Wakebytheriver
Summary: AU. Les Miserable parallel. Same characters but set 40 years after the first war.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hello, happy readers! This is a new project I'm working on, inspired by the book/musical Les Miserables. I'm currently involved in a local production of the show and got inspired. If you're familiar with Victor Hugo's amazing body of work, then you should be able to recognize many of the Hunger Games characters for their Les Mis parallels. The main difference is that there are a number of gender swaps. Those who would be male in the show are female in this fic and vice versa in almost every case. _**

**_Also, if you've read my main fic, Random Reality Shifts, then you'll recognize the use of certain names and a couple of original characters. _**

**_I hope you enjoy._**

* * *

Pya looked out the window of her new home as the morning dawned over her town- as of yesterday, it was officially _her _town. She had won the mayoral election in a landslide, wrestling power from the merchants for the first time in generations. The merchants were known for using their wealth to pay for votes, but Pya was well known throughout the District and had used her influence as the town's healer to encourage the entire Seam to vote in its largest turnout in the District's history. In less than 24 hours, she had already managed to reaccess the town's meager budget, meet with the former mayor's advisory council, order necessary safety upgrades to the only school house in town, and still take the time to see patients, all while moving her two children into the official mayor's residence right in the center of the square.

She smiled as she thought of her girls. They were the reason she'd done this in the first place. Katniss, barely six, and Primrose, about to turn three, had saved her life when she'd lost her husband. Her initial response had been to retreat into her depression and despair, to stop trying to live and await the inevitable fate, in which her family joined her husband in death. But it was not to be. After a few days of staring into the void, a knock had come to the door. An official from the school stood upon the threshold with a peacekeeper who had threatened to arrest her and take her children away if they continued to come to school unwashed and without lunch. The peacekeeper hadn't actually said much, but the few words he spoke made his intentions very clear: shape up as a parent, or never see your girls again. She couldn't allow that. They would go to the group home, or worse- her late husband's horrible father would be awarded custody. Suddenly the same despair that had made her more than content with letting her children starve to death alongside her became the same fire that made her cling to her sanity. In life or death, they were still a family, and damn it, they were gonna stay that way. It had been just under a year, since she'd lost her husband and she had never been so glad to be alive.

She reached out and opened the window before her, taking in a deep breath of the morning air, listening to the sounds of the town as it awoke. She hadn't heard the start of day bustle in years, not since before her marriage when she was merchant herself. Now here she was, standing above it all. From below she could hear people calling to one another as they opened their stores.

Mixing with the coal that always hung in the air, she could smell the snow that was coming, that would be upon them within days. She made a mental note to fortify all shelters before the true cold arrived.

As she shut the window, she looked down to see a man she didn't know passing by, pulling by the hand, a young boy who couldn't be any older than Katniss. The man glanced up at her and smiled kindly, encouraging her to do the same. She watched him until he and the boy were out of sight then closed the window, feeling a shiver up her spine. Strangers were a very rare occurrence. Once, perhaps twice in the last ten years had she seen someone that she couldn't name on sight. At the very least she should have recognized the child, considering she'd been present for the births of most of the children in town, but aside from a strong resemblance the man he walked beside, she'd never seen him before.

Seconds later, both were driven from her mind when the timid knock of a small hand fell upon her door. She opened the large white double doors and looked lovingly down at her daughters who were still in their nightclothes, uttering as single word that made them both gasp with delight.

"Pancakes!"

Once the girls had been shipped off to school, Pya was given a tour of parts of the town in which she had never ventured before. They took her into the crumbling homeless shelters and group homes for children, into the small hospital and around a tent city that had sprung up over the course of a fortnight.

"The poor are a growing problem," said her guide, a young peacekeeper with dark skin and a perpetual sneer, "every day they encroach further upon the good people this town and threaten to take it over. Theft and prostitution run rampant. It won't be long before murders occur."

Pya stopped and turned to her guide, "Is this your first winter in 12?"

He nodded once, "It is Ma'am."

She noted his use of the word "Ma'am," finding it odd that a man from a better place than herself would bother with the term of respect. She could only assume that his had either been a very proper upbringing, or an extremely strict one. Based on how he carried himself, the latter seemed more likely.

"You don't have to worry about the poor," she assured him, "At least not these."

"Why is that?"

"Because half of them will be dead by the spring. The winters here are harsh and most of these people are already half starved. They won't make it."

As she'd expected, he seemed satisfied with her reply and moved on.

"What you might worry about," she added, "is figuring out where the poor keep coming from. A few families lost their homes, but not this many."

"Ma'am?"

"I saw a stranger this morning, Captain. I'd like to know where he came from."

The peacekeeper went pale, "What did this stranger look like?'

"It was hard to see from my window," she said, "but he was perhaps six feet tall. He had sandy colored hair coming out of his cap and very, very blue eyes."

"Was he alone?"

Pya didn't miss the hungry look in the peacekeeper's eyes as he awaited an answer.

"No," she said carefully, "He had a young boy with him. Likely his son. Why, do you know him?"

"Yes Ma'am," he said automatically, "He's a deserter from his assigned home."

"Assigned home?" she asked confused, "Is he from another District?"

"No, Ma'am." In his desperation to avoid the topic, the peacekeeper walked ahead, leading her to one of the coal refineries and showing her around, introducing her to the various shift leaders on the property. Safety concerns in the coal factories were high on her list of priorities and she wanted a first hand look at the dangers her people were facing every day. It was not a pretty sight. Half the machines were falling apart. Rusted gears commonly fell out of alignment, conveyor belts would snap and often were hastily sewn back together because there was no one who knew how to fix them and no replacement was coming. Fires were common and hard to put out. At one point the gears jammed and the only person with hands small enough to unclog the mess was a six year old girl whose parents also worked in the factory. As the little girl cleared the jam, Pya knew that it was only a matter of time before her hand slipped and she lost one of her tiny fingers to the machines.

There were more factories to see, but after the first, Pya felt the overwhelming need to go home and hug her children. She returned to her office to make a list for the peacekeeper to take care of, including looking into repairmen from the surrounding Districts for the factories, and hiring construction workers to begin the repairs on the school. She'd expected him to complain, to tell her that it wasn't his job, and that he was only there for her protection detail. Nothing more.

Instead, he took the list from her and turned to leave.

Before he could reach the door, she called, "Thank you, Aldred."

He gave a curt nod, then exited to room to go about his assigned duties.

Pya went home to find her girls in their playroom, still marveling over their new treasures. Most of the toys hadn't even left the chest in the corner. Katniss and Primrose were so timid about things that were new and clean- perhaps because they'd always had so few untarnished possessions that they worried they would be scolded if the toys became broken or dirty in any way. It didn't help that the nanny was eyeing both girls with suspicion every time they got too close to the toy box. Pya sent the nanny home, then walked over to the wooden chest, and with one of her shiny new boots, kicked it onto its side, scattering stuffed animals and games into every corner of the room.

"Let's play," she said with a smile.

Prim was in bed immediately after dinner, still clutching a doll in her arms. Katniss on the other hand was still too excited about her new life to be able to lay down for more than a few minutes. Pya sat her older daughter on the couch and put a big bowl of ice cream into her tiny hands, then pulled a blanket over them both.

"Mom," the girl asked, looking up at Pya with large, hopeful eyes, "Are we gonna stay here a long time?"

Katniss had always been regarded as a slightly unsettling child by those who didn't know her and her eyes had so much to do with her reputation. Even at such a young age, she had a habit of looking at people in a way that was so calculating and intuitive. She could size others up from the moment she saw them and very often Pya and her husband had not been immune to such searching stares.

"I hope so," said Pya being as truthful as she could, "if the people in town like me as mayor, then we'll get to stay here for a very long time."

"What about our old house?"

"Its still ours, but we don't have to live there."

"Who's gonna live there then?" asked Katniss in confused.

Before she could reply there was a loud knock on the front door. Well wishers and District officials had been calling on the house all night causing her to wonder if she would ever get the chance to sleep with all the constant welcoming committees hanging around.

To her surprise, on the other side of the door, was not the neighbors she was expecting.

The stranger from that morning stood looking ashen, holding his son in his arms. His sandy hair was going everywhere and his eyes were wide and panicked as he clutched the limp child to his chest.

"Are you the healer?" he asked in a low husky voice.

"Yes," she replied warily.

"Can you help him," he begged, "Can you help my boy?"

Pya reached out, placing a hand on the child's forehead and another up on his neck, searching for the sluggish pulse under his grey tinged skin. He was ice beneath her fingers.

"Bring him in," she ordered, "Right now."

The man raced past her while she shut the door behind him. She passed him heading towards Katniss who gazed unsurely at her as she flew down the hall. She crouched down to her daughter who recoiled at the sight of the strange man.

"Katniss, sweetheart," she said taking her daughter by the shoulders, "run down the hall and get the blanket off my bed. Bring it to me."

She led the man through the dining room to the fireplace in the kitchen asking questions about the boy's condition.

"How long has he been out?"

"He fell asleep about twenty minutes ago and hasn't woken up since."

"How was he acting before he went out? Any confusion or lack of coordination?"

"He kept forgetting where we were going. He fell off the street and landed in a puddle."

Pya almost stopped in the middle of the hall, but kept her feet moving towards the kitchen.

"Strip him down to his undershorts," she told the man as she put another log on the fire, "Everything wet needs to go."

Katniss arrived with the large comforter from Pya's bed.

"Thank you dear," said Pya, as she turned on the stove, "Bring it to the man by the fire then go to bed."

"But mom!"

"Go!" snapped Pya.

As her mother heated up a pot of broth on the stove. Katniss went to the man who cradled his son by the fireplace and gave him the blanket that dragged behind her. He thanked her as he took the comforter and wrapped it around the boy who was now trembling as the feeling returned to his body.

"Why won't he wake up?" asked Katniss.

"He's very cold," replied the man, as he ran his hands up and down his son's arms trying to warm him. Katniss reached out to brush hair from the boy's head, feeling the icy skin under her fingertips. She gasped, "You're right."

"Katniss!" her mother barked, "Go to bed!"

The man smiled kindly through the fear in his eyes, "You should listen to your mother."

"Ok," she said in a small voice, before leaning down to plant a kiss on the boy's cheek. As she pulled away, she could see his face scrunch and a high pitched groan came from his throat. She brushed her fingers through his blond hair again, then darted down the hall and into her room.

Pya leaned over the counter and saw the man rocking his son who still shook from the cold.

"Get under with him," she told him turning away from the stove.

He spun around to face her, his hair glowing bright red in the firelight, "Sorry?"

"Take your shirt off," she reiterated, "and get under the blanket with him. He needs skin contact; body heat."

He didn't hesitate. Pya came around the counter holding a bowl of warm broth just as the man's shirt hit the floor at his side. The sight of his strong back and wide shoulders caused an unexpected flush of heat through her face that she knew had nothing to do with the fire. She helped him wrap the blanket around himself and his son then sat beside them. She took one of the boy's feet in between her palms and rubbed the icy skin to get the circulation flowing again.

"Your daughter's sweet," the man told her, "I like her name."

Pya smiled unconsciously, "What's yours?"

He turned to meet her soft eyes, "I'm Artos. And this strapping young lad," he looked down at the boy, "is Peeta. I promise, he's much more strapping when he's awake."

"I can imagine," she agreed with a laugh, reaching for the other frozen foot, "Poor kid. How far did you travel to get here?"

Artos turned to Pya, hesitating briefly.

"I won't turn you in," she promised.

"Turn me in?" he asked, "You run this town, don't you?"

"Only since yesterday," she admitted, "I just want to know where you came from."

Artos didn't reply. He wrapped his arms tighter around his son and stared into the fire.

Pya returned her hands to the child's forehead and neck, pleased that he was making progress. Again, he whined in his sleep, but didn't open his eyes.

"Can you least tell me what you're doing here?" she asked.

He looked down at his son with a devotion that Pya understood only too well.

"My wife," said Artos softly, "We had to get away from her."

He turned to her to find confusion on her face. He explained.

"I have three sons," he told her quietly, "but times have gotten tough. Food and work don't come easy and we were down to our last handful of bread. A few days ago, I returned home to find that my wife had sold our middle child into the service of a couple who run an inn. She sold six years of our boy's life for barely enough money to live on for six months." His mouth curled downward in bitter disgust, "Peeta's too young for any sort of useful labor, but eventually, she'd do the same to him and I couldn't let her."

"Where's your oldest?" Pya asked.

"Still with _her_," he said grimly.

"Is he safe there?" she asked, watching as his stiff anger dissolved into a grimace of sorrow. Without thinking, she reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry."

Pya had to wonder what she would do in his position. Could she leave one of her girls to save the other? Give up Katniss to an uncertain fate to save Prim? Then she remembered that she'd already had to make that decision. After her husband had died, her father-in-law had been at her door the following day, demanding that she turn over Primrose to his custody, threatening that if she didn't relinquish one daughter that he would take both. He had no real interest in Katniss, already deeming her too wild, too uncivilized. Perhaps he'd simply been the victim of her piercing stare and didn't appreciate the idea of being judged by a six year old- but all the same, he'd sworn to take her too.

Pya would be lying if she didn't admit that it was tempting. How much easier would it be to support one child as opposed to two, especially when Prim would be better provided for by her well-to-do grandfather. She would want for nothing, never miss a meal, never worry about her future, but still Pya couldn't do it. It wasn't pride, it was fear of her father-in-law, fear that Prim wouldn't be able to survive his ridiculous standards of what a _proper_ person- especially a _proper woman_- should be. The six ex-wives he'd thrown out into the street were enough to prove that.

Not long after Pya had been threatened by the school, she'd gone down to the courthouse where she filed a report with the current head peacekeeper. She told him the details of her situation and was surprised at the quick resolution. Cray was known for his hard bargaining and, frankly, uncouth sense of "justice." Pya hadn't expected to leave the place with her decency in tact. Luckily Cray was open to other forms of payment and a few coins slipped into his hand had the same effect. In the end, her triumph over a very wealthy merchant had helped in her mayoral candidacy and her eventual win. A lot of luck- both bad and good- had gotten her family to where it was, her fate being changed on an almost daily basis. She wondered what sort of luck Artos would bring.

"Where are you staying?" she asked him, taking up the child's frozen feet again.

"There's a shelter up the way. We'd be there already but-"

"Its a good thing you're not there," she assured him, "They set a curfew which you are long past. They wouldn't have let you out to get to me. I have space. You and your boy can stay here for the night."

"Ma'am-"

"If you attempt to leave this house tonight, I'll have you arrested," she said pleasantly. Her eyes narrowed playfully, "I can do it, you know."

He looked ready to argue, but seemed to think better of it.

"Yes, I suppose you can," he conceded, "I wouldn't want to spit upon your generosity, _Madam_ Mayor."

"That's what I thought," she reached down to adjust the blanket around the boy and smiled widely.

"Welcome back," she said to Peeta who had awoken at some point during their conversation. He didn't hear her. She ran her fingers lightly around his hairline, but still he didn't respond to her in the slightest. His eyes were open, but fixed on a point off to the side. Pya followed his line of sight, right into the eyes of her own daughter who was standing in the entrance to the hallway a few feet away. Katniss was staring hard, but not in her usual searching fashion. This look was more confusion than curiosity, as though she'd already scanned him and found that she didn't know what he was. Something about this boy had her stumped and she was looking inward for what exactly that meant. Pya wanted to reprimand her, to tell her once again, to go to bed, but she was intrigued by her daughter's behavior and for a long moment she forgot to breathe.

Artos was so focused on his son's opened eyes that he noticed nothing that went on around him until Pya spoke.

"Come here, Katniss," she said, holding out her hand. She watched her daughter approach cautiously, taking each step with more hesitation than the one before. Pya lifted the bowl of broth and put it in Katniss's hands saying, "Sweetheart, this is Peeta. I want you to make sure that he swallows every sip of this soup, while I take his dad upstairs to the extra bedroom. Can you do that?"

Katniss nodded and took the bowl, then plopped down crosslegged on the floor before the fire.

Pya looked up at Artos, "Will you come with me?"

"Of course," Artos nodded. He removed the blanket from around himself, then wrapped it around his son until every inch of the boy was covered in layers of fabric. He dug through the top until he found Peeta whose arms flailed clumsily in his quest for the surface. He pulled the fabric down just enough to free Peeta's face, then kissed him on top of the head, "I'll be right back."

He grabbed his shirt from the floor and threw it over his head as he followed Pya from the room. Together they ascended the staircase. Every few steps, Artos would turn his head back to find Katniss shoveling soup into his son's mouth while chattering in a long unbroken line. Even if Peeta wanted to reply, she never gave him the chance.

"Is she always that talkative?" Artos asked, once they reached the first landing.

"Never," Pya replied.

She showed him the guest room where she turned down the bed then found him some fresh towels.

"Sorry the room is small," she said, "but it should be comfortable enough."

"I'm sure it will be," he replied.

"Have you eaten today?"

He shook his head.

"I'll keep the broth on the stove for you. Have as much as you like. In fact, have whatever you like down there. We have plenty to go around."

"The broth will be fine," Artos said stiffly, looking around at the guest room that was so luxurious, he was certain that he'd never set foot in a room this nice . The mattress on the bed looked plush and the down comforter looked warm and inviting. The top of the headboard was gilded. The furniture was made of a beautiful, dark wood, carved intricately with patterns of fleur-de-lys, and roses. Under his torn shoes, Artos could feel the give of the soft carpet. The room had a its own fireplace and on top of the mantle was a pair of candle holders made of solid silver.

"You want me to stay in here?" he asked, casting his eyes at the surrounding extravagance, "There's no need for this. We can sleep down by the fireplace."

Pya looked up at him from where she was smoothing down the sheets with her hands, "This house has seven bedrooms. We may as well get use out of a couple of them."

She handed him a towel and showed him where the bathroom was, then returned down the stairs to where Katniss sat beside Peeta who was drowsing where he sat. Apparently she'd finally been exhausted of words and the two sat in sleepy silence in front of the fireplace.

Pya checked the clothes that hung over the fireplace grate and found them dry. She put them over one shoulder, then hoisted the boy over the other and carried him up the stairs. He was asleep before they reached the top.

* * *

An hour before dawn, while the moon still shone bright through his window, Peeta was awoken by a hand shaking his shoulder.

"Come on," he heard his dad say softly, "it's time to go."

Peeta sat at the edge of the mattress while his dad slipped socks onto his feet, followed by his shoes.

"Why can't we stay?" Peeta asked softly.

"Sorry, buddy," said Artos, as he took his son by the hand, "I wish we could, but we don't belong here."

They crept down the stairs, listening for any other sounds of life in the house, but all was quiet. Suddenly Artos stopped, causing Peeta to run into his back. As his forehead impacted with his father's spine, Peeta could hear the faint clinking of metal upon metal in Artos' pocket. He watched his dad freeze once more, searching the halls for anyone who might have woken up, but the house was still.

Artos reached for the door and pulled, then lead Peeta out into the darkened street.

* * *

_**I'm keeping this in the M rating for future chapters. Smut and violence to come later in the story. :)**_

_**Review if you like it. **_

_**Find me on tumblr: wakebytheriver**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Here we are at Chapter 2. I'm trying to add little elements of both stories and hope that it meshes. **_

_**Thanks SolasVioletta for betaing my story. **_

_**I don't own Les Miserables, or the Hunger Games. **_

* * *

Within four hours, Pya would see Artos again.

If she was honest with herself, she really hadn't expected to find him still in the house, but even so, when she opened the door to the guest room, she'd been hopeful. They'd left nothing behind, not a forgotten sock, or even a note. The beds had been remade, the comforter from her bed folded neatly upon a chair, and every trace of Artos and Peeta Mellark had been cleaned from every surface in the room.

Pya fed and dressed her kids, trying her best to appease Katniss's many questions about where her new friend had disappeared to, but she had no answers. When she ushered them out the door, she saw disappointed tears in those searching, stormy eyes.

She went to her office and sat, pouring over the list that Aldred had been kind enough to assemble. He was very thorough. The construction crew he was suggesting was enormous and would cost a fortune that the District just didn't have yet. Until commerce improved, repairs would be a slow process and only one building could be fixed at a time. At least it would get done.

She put in the work request for the worst of the homeless shelters, then went to the next set of paperwork just as the phone on her desk let out a ring.

"Hello?" she said as she picked up the receiver.

"Madam Mayor," said a voice on the other line, I'm sorry to disturb you, but your presence has been requested at the city jailhouse."

"Is this urgent?" she asked, "I'm really very busy."

"Yes ma'am," said the voice, she now recognized as that of the administrator from the jail.

"Alright," she said with a sigh, setting down the receiver.

Once she reached the jailhouse, she saw why she'd been called down. Artos was cuffed to a chair in front of a desk, behind which sat a peacekeeper. Pya met his eyes briefly, then looked around in search of his son who was nowhere to found. She approached the desk, observing how Artos dropped his eyes and his cheeks burned bright red as she neared him.

The peacekeeper was an older gentleman named Myrell. He'd been assigned to their District for as long as she could remember, but she hadn't had a run in with him since she was in her teens. Now as she neared him, she felt like she had on the day that she'd been caught kissing Marc Homer behind the grocery. Myrell had given her the same disapproving stare then that he was giving her now.

Sitting on the desk in front of him was a pair of silver candlesticks that she didn't recognize.

He nodded, "Ma'am."

"Hello," she said congenially.

"We believe you were robbed last night," he went on, "We found this man attempting to sell these to Castor. When asked where they came from, he claimed that you gave them to him." Myrell placed a clipboard in front of her, "I'm requesting twenty lashes in the public square to set an example to the rest of the scum."

"Twenty?" she exclaimed, "The last person whipped out there only got ten and he stole livestock."

"The last one didn't steal from the mayor's home."

"And neither did he," she said, gesturing towards Artos who looked up suddenly in shock, "He's telling you the truth, Mr. Myrell. You can release him."

"Ma'am," he insisted, "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course," she told him, lying through her teeth, "I think I would remember giving away my own possessions. Now, please remove his handcuffs."

Myrell did as he was asked, but once freed, Artos didn't move. He was staring at Pya with his mouth wide open- a speechless expression that landed somewhere between reverence and horror.

She picked up the candlesticks and handed them over.

"Don't forget those," she said.

She assumed they were from somewhere in her house, but honestly couldn't say where. She'd been so busy since she'd taken office, that there had been no time to take stock of everything she'd inherited with the position.

"Thank you," he croaked, before turning and heading to the door.

"Ma'am," said Myrell before she could follow Artos out the door, "In the future, it would be good to remember that most of the items in that home have been there for many generations and aren't entirely yours to give away."

"I'll keep that in mind," she told him, "Please feel free to call me if you have any other concerns."

She went outside where she found Artos waiting for her.

Instantly, he rounded on her, "Why did you do that?"

"Because I don't need them and you can't afford to go to jail," she said, "All the same, don't steal from me again."

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes filling with shame until he had to drop them to the ground.

"I forgive you," she said flatly, "Now where's your boy?"

"They took him somewhere else. No one will tell me where," he said, running his shaking hands through his disheveled sandy hair.

"Do know his registry number?" she asked, "I can find him that way."

Artos looked confused, "What registry? He doesn't have any number?"

Suddenly, Pya was gaping at Artos. Every child under the age of eighteen had a government issued registry number. It began as a way to keep track of population growth, and a way for the Capitol to know who's name belonged in the reaping bowl each year, but essentially it was used for everything. Medical records, school attendance, census purposes and any other reason the government might have to keep track of someone. Not having a number was like not having fingerprints.

"Where the hell did you come from?"

He shook his head, "I can't tell you."

"I think you owe me," she reminded him, "after everything I've done for you."

"Fine," he spat, "but first, we find my son."

"I'll find your son," Pya hissed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a key which she shoved into his hand, "Go back to my house and wait for me. Try not to get arrested on the way there."

She stormed off without waiting for a reply.

There weren't many places that the peacekeepers would take a child that young, but she knew that the first thing they would do was try to figure out who he was. She went a block over to the children's home, a place she'd spent a lot of time in her youth while attempting to gain experience as a healer. Her parents had taught her most of what she knew, but going out on her own ended up being the best training she could get.

When she walked in the door, she was instantly met by the matron, a burly looking woman name Trin, who'd been in charge of the children's home for nearly twenty years.

"Hi," said Pya indulgently, smiling sweetly. The corners of Trin's mouth twitched upward for a brief second, then dropped just as quickly.

"What can I do for you?" she asked in a gravelly voice.

"I just got a call from a very concerned mother," said Pya inventing a story on the spot, "I think her son might have been brought here by mistake."

"Who's kid?"

"Florence LeGrange."

The LeGrange family was huge- the largest in the District. Female children were rare among them, so with every passing generation, they expanded their reach, saturating the District with towheaded boys. Peeta could easily pass for one of them.

Trin raised an eyebrow, "I had a feeling he was a LeGrange. Those boys are everywhere. Wait here."

She reappeared seconds later, holding Peeta by the hand.

"I appreciate you coming by," she said, "I was about to start making calls. I'd be here all day calling LeGrange homes. How many are there now?"

"Twenty-three different households," Pya replied. She lifted Peeta into her arms, and smiled, "You ready?"

He didn't reply, or even smile back. He latched his arms around her neck and held on tight. Pya hugged him back, "Thanks, Trin."

She backed her way out of the door and turned down the road, accidently bumping into someone that she couldn't see over the top of Peeta's head.  
"Pardon me, Aldred," she said when she turned around. The peacekeeper stumbled a couple of steps, but recovered.

"Not at all," he replied amicably, "I should have watched where I was going."

Pya attempted to walk away, but Aldred caught up, falling into step alongside her.

"I left a list on your desk," he told her, "Did I cover all your requests?"

"And then some," she assured him, speeding up her feet, "It was very thorough."

"Do you have any time to meet with me," he went on, "To discuss how my job can be improved upon? I would like-"

"Aldred," she stopped him, "This really is not a good time. I need to go home for a couple of hours. Can you make sure that town doesn't fall apart while I'm gone?"

He nodded, "Of course," then looked at Peeta, as though he'd just noticed the child that clung to Pya's frame, "Is he one of yours?"

She shook her head, "I just picked him up for a friend. I'll see you this afternoon."

With that, she darted off, hoping to put as much distance between herself and the peacekeeper as she could.

Finally she reached her house. Artos was waiting for them just inside. Once Pya shut the door, Artos darted forward and took his son from her arms.

"Thank you," he said, sitting Peeta on the counter.

As the two of them reunited, Pya took a frying pan out from a cabinet and set it on the stove, then began pulling ingredients out of her fully stocked refrigerator.

"Its a little late in the day for omelettes," said Artos, looking at the eggs, cheese, and tomatoes.

"Did you eat breakfast?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Point taken," he replied, allowing her to continue.

Within minutes, she'd cooked up a pair of omelets with bacon and vegetables folded in. Cheese melted out of the sides. Rolls from the local bakery were served hot with butter. The table was set and a pot of coffee was made, along with a steaming cup of hot chocolate for Peeta. As Pya carried her cup of coffee into the dining room to join them, she noticed that a third place setting had been set and they had each cut off a piece of their breakfasts and piled them onto the plate for her, leaving a scrambled mess of bacon, eggs, and cheese drenched vegetables. It looked delicious. She sat in front of the plate, "Why, thank you."

"You're welcome," squeaked the voice to her right. She looked over at Peeta whose round blue eyes were looking excitedly up from his hot chocolate. It was the first time she'd heard him speak and she couldn't help but smile warmly at the sound.

After they'd eaten, Pya took Peeta up to the girls' playroom and told him that he was free to play with anything he wanted. He found himself a set of coloring books and crayons, then sank to the floor right on the spot and got to work.

Pya returned to the dining room to find that Artos had refreshed her coffee and was now sitting on the couch by the fire awaiting her.

She sat down and thanked him for the coffee.

"What would you like to know?" he asked.

"What sort of place in Panem has no games registry?"

"A town about forty miles from here called Dasis."

Pya almost spit out her coffee.

"Really," she said with a laugh, "You expect me to believe that you're from Dasis?"

"Its true," he assured her.

The town of Yudasis- shortened just to Dasis by most- was a failed experiment of the Capitol. The small city, and twelve others just like it, had been built as a sort of outpost; a way to keep their reach in the far Districts without having to send people and supplies directly from the Capitol itself.

After eight years, all the outpost towns had been abandoned due to exorbitant expense it took to keep them running. The people returned to the Capitol and the towns lay in ruin.

"How did you end up out there?" she asked with a doubtful shake of her head, "You just wandered off and found it?"

"No, actually I was born there," he glanced up in reference to the floor above them where his son played, "So was he."

"That's not possible," she insisted, "Dasis has been gone for over thirty years."

"I assure you, its there," he said, "At least it was a few days ago when I left."

"So that…" Pya could hear the flash of fear in her voice as she realized that he was telling the truth and what exactly that meant, "That would make you..a Capitol citizen."

A Capitol citizen who had just coerced her into performing a number of illegal acts. She realized to her horror, exactly what he could do to her- what the Capitol would do to her for taking in a noncitizen of her District, for telling lies to a peacekeeper. Suddenly all she could think about was getting to her daughters before they were picked up by some government official and she never saw them again. In a second, she was off the couch and fleeing to the door. Artos was after her instantly, and caught her around the middle, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Stop!" he barked. Pya froze, despite her overwhelming need to run, "You need to listen to me. I am not from the Capitol. I've never even been there. I spent my entire life in Dasis. Pya, the Capitol cut us off. They abandoned us. When I was a kid, peacekeepers came. They blew up our train tracks, built a wall around our town and left us there to starve to death."

"Why?"

"I don't know," he said, releasing her arms. He took a step back, "but they did that to their own people. We spent the last thirty years barely scraping by just like you."

"It doesn't make sense," she maintained, "if they wanted to get rid of you, they could have done it at any time. They have bombs and guns. They could have destroyed that whole town like it was nothing. But they let you live. For God's sake, they don't even reap your kids. They've completely left your entire town alone. Why would you ever come here, Artos?"

He returned to his place on the couch, but Pya didn't move. She remained by the door, still poised to run at a moment's notice.

"Where else could we go?" he asked defeatedly, "There's nothing for us back there. I had to take the risk that things could be better here."

"They're not," she stated firmly, "You should go back."

The squeal of the stairs, caused both of their heads to turn. Peeta stood at the bottom, still clutching a coloring book in one hand and an assortment of crayons in the other.

"Can I color down here?" he asked in a small voice.

"Of course you can," said Artos, beckoning the boy forward with a wave of his arm.

Pya went to the stove and ladled out the remainder of the hot chocolate into a mug and topped it with sweet cream, all the while, thinking to herself that there was another place out there; somewhere not too far away where she could take her kids and they would be safe. Katniss was six years away from her first reaping day. It was so far away, but so close at the same time. If she could find a way to escape before then, maybe she could protect her girls from the games. Not even her position as mayor could do that.

When she returned, Artos was sitting on the floor beside Peeta who was stretched out on his stomach, so engrossed in coloring in the picture that he barely noticed she was there until she set the chocolate beside him. He reached for the mug and took a mouthful. His eyes closed dreamily and he smiled.

"Mmmmmm," he mused happily.

Artos looked up at Pya who'd returned to her place on the couch.

"We're never going back," he said, "Not ever."

* * *

_**Thanks for reading. **_


	3. Chapter 3

**_Thanks for reading, my little detour from RRS. I hope this is at least a little entertaining lol. I'm trying to keep it moving along, because lets face it, all the fun stuff in Les Mis happens in the second half._**

**_Thanks SolasVioletta for being my patient beta._**

* * *

Before any of them knew it, almost three weeks had passed. The Mellark men became permanent fixtures in their household, as Pya couldn't stand the idea of them being in a shelter. She knew that if they took up residency anywhere else, Peeta would be officially declared as "unregistered." The punishment, should he be discovered, was instant removal from his father, placement in the childrens home and a one way ticket into the arena once he reached the age of twelve. There would be no reaping for the boys, unless another family was caught attempting the same rouse. They didn't bother with a reaping if an unregistered child was caught. That sentence was automatic, unwavering, and with no chance of appeal.

Not one unregistered child had ever won the games.

It was a temporary solution and they all knew it, but Pya found that she rather liked having a man in the house again. It was wonderful to have someone home when the girls got out of school. There was always dinner ready when she came from the office, and when the snow she'd predicted began to fall the following day, her walkway was always cleared. In fact her neighbors thought he was a hired servant of the house and many of them offered him a few coins each day to clean their walkways as well.

Artos earned his board ten times over.

He'd run a bakery in Dasis and had been teaching her girls the finer points of flavor and decoration. On the night of her twenty-ninth birthday Pya came home to find a cake made of half a dozen combined flavors (many of which didn't blend well with each other) and covered with layers of frosting in colors that had been mixed together so many times the result was a sad looking brownish-gray. Artos had added some pink flower designs and the girls had declared it beautiful.

From across the table, he raised eyebrows to her in a silent apology. Pya smiled and ate every bite.

As they sat by the fire, Artos laughed, "Sorry. I tried to warn them that peppermint wouldn't mix with caramel, but they insisted."

Pya sipped on the glass of wine she held, "The strawberry mousse mixed with the cinnamon was a little unusual."

"Your girls are creative, I'll give them that," he said with a shake of his head, "I think they had fun."

"You're really good with them."

"Well," he told her, "I always hoped for a daughter. My boys are amazing, but we were wishing for a girl."

"You'll get one," she assured him, "A sweet boy like Peeta will find himself a nice girl one day. Of course, Katniss might never let him go."

When she was home from school, Katniss rarely left Peeta's side. Even now, they were upstairs, both fast asleep in her bed. Katniss kept her arms around him protectively while he slept, ensuring that they were never more than few inches apart.

"They're pretty attached to each other," he agreed, "it'll be rough on them when we leave."

"Do you think that'll be soon?" she asked, taking another sip from the glass in her hand.

He nodded solemnly, "Probably. We need to be somewhere safe by the time the real cold hits. I think we can reach Canaa if we leave in the next week. If we can get a break in the snow, that is."

Canaa was a town in Disrtict 11 that had met the same fate at Dasis. No one knew where it was anymore, or if it even still existed.

"What if it doesn't let up?"

"Don't worry," he said, "we'll be out of your hair soon."

"I don't want you running off in the cold," said Pya, "especially if you don't know exactly where you're going."

"We can follow the train tracks."

"And what if a train comes along?" she asked, "You'll be caught."

"What do you suggest?" he snapped impatiently, "We live the rest of our lives hiding out here?"

"I think you should go back to Dasis," she said for what must have been the hundredth time.

He held a glass of whiskey in his hand, from which he took a large swallow, feeling a fiery burn in his chest, "We can't go back there just to starve again."

"Artos, I have a house full of valuable junk and an account full of credits."

"No," he shook his head, "You've done enough. We can't live off your charity."

"Its not charity," she said firmly, "Its payment."

"For what?" he asked carefully.

Pya downed the rest of her wine. When she looked back at Artos, he could see the set determination in her eyes, telling him that she did not wish to be talked out of what she was about to suggest.

"When you go," she began, "I want you to take my girls with you."

His jaw dropped and for a long moment he sat in silence. Finally he took a deep breath, ready to make a logical argument as to why what she was asking was impossible.

"I'm serious," she insisted before he could speak, "They can't stay here. You know about the Games, Artos. If there is any way to keep them out of that, then I have to do it. I'll give you anything you want, if you'll get them out of here."

"It's not possible," he said gently, "If your kids come up missing, where will the peacekeepers go looking for them? You said it yourself, Dasis is free of government rule because we've kept under their radar. They think we died out. If they go looking for your girls and they find them in Dasis, they'll burn the city to the ground. There are hundreds of kids there and they'll all end up in the reaping pool or killed. And you know that if they find your girls there, its a guarantee they'll become tributes- both of them." He turned away, looking down at the glass in his hands, "Besides, what would happen to you if your daughters up and vanished? You'd be the first person they would suspect. They'd imprison you or worse. Everything you've worked for and done for this town would mean nothing. "

"I don't care about that," she said.

"I do!" he shot at her, "I can't help you. I'm sorry."

Pya felt her heart rate increasing. Artos was turning slightly red as she watched.

"Why do you care what happens to me?" she asked, "You don't even know me."

A smile crossed his face as he turned to look at her, "You and I have sat here- right here- every day for the last nineteen days. We've talked about everything."

"Still-"

"I've watched you," he said, "I see how you are with your kids and how you act with mine. I know that you come home completely exhausted, but you still see anyone who comes to your door needing help, usually without expecting payment. I know you fought for your position to help this town and you've done more for it in less than a month than the last one did in his entire first year. I know that you're willing to take a HUGE risk for someone that you don't even know because nineteen days ago, we didn't know each other. Your favorite color is purple. When you get nervous, you bite your bottom lip which you're doing right now," he laughed as she quickly let go of her lip and tried to make her face impassive to hide the flush. He went on, "Katniss does the exact same thing when she's thinking hard about something. Your daughters are just like you."

"That's a terrifying thought," she said hastily.

"I think its amazing," he countered, "You're a hell of a woman, Pya and you're teaching those girls well. Hell, I hope Peeta can find himself a girl like Katniss. I'd be damn proud...I just don't think it can be her."

She looked down at her folded hands, "She'll be heartbroken if you leave."

It was a silly thing to think about, that a six year old wouldn't move on to find someone else in the remainder of the long life she still had to live, but the idea of having to tell Katniss that she wouldn't be seeing Peeta again caused Pya's heart to hurt.

"What about you?" he asked, taking a hand off of his glass to put over hers. She looked down at where they touched and instantly felt a sense of calm at the sight of his skin on her own. They didn't make such contact often, but every time, she was acutely aware of the roughness of his palms and how his hands made hers look so small.

She slipped her fingers out of his grasp and stood hastily.

"'I'll miss you when you go," she said, as she walked her empty glass to the kitchen.

Artos was right behind her, "That's it?"

"What exactly are you hoping for here?" she asked, yanking the cork out of the wine bottle and filling her glass.

Artos took the bottle from her and set it behind him on the kitchen island. She spun around to face him, but before she could get a word out, he pressed her against the counter and crushed his mouth against hers.

At first, Pya was too shocked to move. No one had kissed her like that in over a year and she could honestly say, she hadn't expected this from Artos. But she couldn't say she hadn't thought about it. As his mouth moved above hers, she could taste the spice of the whiskey and sweetness from the cake they'd eaten. Just under was the lingering flavor of pipe tobacco.

She wasn't sure when her eyes had closed, or when she'd wrapped her arms around him in an attempt to pull him closer, but suddenly there she was, making out in her kitchen like some hormonal teenager, hoping that her kids didn't wake up and catch her in the act.

When his lips left hers, he stayed close, his forehead still resting against her own, his hands just under her chin. She opened her eyes and found him already looking at her, focused so intensely on every movement of her face, that when she met his gaze, she couldn't look away.

"I've been wanting to do that since I passed under your window three weeks ago," he admitted, "I shouldn't have waited so long."

"Now, its just going to be harder when you leave," she reminded him.

"We'll deal with it when the time comes," he assured her. He slid his palm up her side and rested it on her hip, "What do we do until then?"

Pya could think of only one answer. She leaned forward, pressing her lips briefly to his.

When she pulled away, she smiled softly and took him by the hand, "I suppose we'll have to enjoy what little time we have left."

Still entwined by her fingers, he followed her silently up the stairs.

They spent that night much as they'd spent every night so far, only now when they spoke into the late hours, they did so entangled together in her bed- a slaked, naked jumble of arms and legs. Pya hadn't expected to ever feel her body stirred like that again. She'd written off such carnal pleasures when her husband had died and certainly had not expected to be lying in bed with another man after only fourteen short months, but she found herself with no regrets or guilt. Something inside her felt as if an inevitability had been fulfilled, as though she'd known this would happen from the moment she invited him into her home. But this was not destiny, nor true love or a rash act of fiery romantic passion. They were two people who understood each other's pain, because they were suffering from the same kind, which wasn't to say that she couldn't see herself staying with Artos, she was simply too pragmatic for such thoughts, especially now that he was set upon leaving. She already knew that her girls would be crushed and it was too late to stop that. All she could do now was ensure that she would remain strong for them when the time came.

* * *

As the sun rose the following morning, Artos awoke to find himself lying in bed with a creature more beautiful than he ever thought he would find beside him. The sun that broke through the clouds and lit up the room was bright against her golden hair as it haloed around her head. The white sheet was draped around her waist as she slept on her stomach gave her the appearance of an angel who was losing her robe mid flight. He leaned over and placed soft kisses upon her pale skin, down her spine until he had to move the sheet out of his way. She shivered as she woke. She turned to look behind her and for a brief moment was startled at who she found there. Artos looked up to see the second of confusion in her face.

"Its a little strange to wake up to someone new," he provided.

"That's an understatement," she said rolling onto her back and opening her arms invitingly. Artos crawled up her front, making the same stops with his lips as he'd made on her back, until he reached her eager mouth. When his body was lined up with hers, she took hold of him by his hips and guided him forward until they were joined. She gasped as he filled her slowly going inch by inch. As he began to move, her mouth met his and her palms moved around to his muscular backside, pushing him forward in a silent request that he go faster. Her hips met his encouragingly on each thrust over and over until both were sated and wrapped around one another.

"I'm gonna get up," he said, before planting a long kiss on her neck, "And I'm gonna make a delicious breakfast."

"You do that," she replied, dreamily as his lips caused delightful tingles that were felt over her entire body, "I'll get the kids up."

"Oh no," he stopped her, "You lay right here."

"I have to get up," she said with a laugh, "I have to go into the office."

"Its sunday!"

"I don't really get days off," she reminded him, "You go down, cook up something yummy and I'll be down with the kids in half an hour." It took an effort on both of their parts, but eventually, they left the comfort of the bed.

Pya watched him as he reached for his clothes. At barely thirty-four he was a fine example of a man at any age. He was broad shouldered and strong backed from years of pushing carts loaded own with giant bags of sugar and flour. His hands were strong and his arms muscled from kneading and mixing huge batches of dough every morning. In his blue eyes was a worry that would never quite go away, and very small flashes of gray in his sandy hair were the evidence of stress brought on by years of running a family business almost completely on his own.

As she headed for the shower, she wondered idly where the people of Dasis were getting their bread, now that their baker was gone.

As promised, Pya came down the stairs thirty minutes later to find coffee brewing, muffins in the oven and three children sitting at the kitchen table in their pajamas happily munching on eggs and bacon. Pya place a kiss upon all three of their heads as she passed, then took a seat. Immediately, a large plate of food was put in front of her and a steaming mug of coffee. Before Artos could go back to the stove, Pya caught his hand and looked up into his face.

The corner of her mouth turned up in a knowing grin, "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he replied, returning the smile.

* * *

Within the hour, she was in her office at the justice building, staring at the paperwork in front of her, but not reading it. Her mind was so caught up in memories of her night with Artos that she was finding it impossible to take in any new information. Her hand rubbed the back of her neck and she felt a tingle shooting down to her legs similar to what his lips had given her only a short time before. She shook her head and attempted to refocus only to find herself smiling as she remembered the feeling of his hands on the insides of her thighs. She wasn't sure how many times she'd reread the same line, before she finally surrendered and sat back, letting the memories wash over her. A sudden heat flushed her skin and she found herself staring wistfully out the window in the direction of her home where a warm man waited for her to return so he could take her bed.

"Ma'am," called a voice.

She turned, startled to find Aldred standing in the doorway of her office.

She smiled innocently before running a nervous hand through her hair and clearing her throat, "Yes?"

He stepped into the room and sat in front of her, "Ma'am, I've been looking into the homeless situation like you asked me to."

"Oh?" she asked, having forgotten the request she'd made of him on the day that she'd met Artos until that moment.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, dutifully, "The man you reported to me- have you seen him since?"

"I can't say that I have," she replied quickly.

"Are you sure?" he pressed, "someone fitting his description has been spotted on your block a number of times in the last few weeks. One was also brought in for questioning in regards to a theft of your possessions. Myrell claims that you vouched for this man yourself. Ma'am, why am I searching for someone that you've already found?"

"I didn't ask you to search for him," she reminded him, "I asked you to find out where the homeless are coming from. Have you done so?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Then why are you sitting here, wasting my time?" she asked in a hard voice, attempting to hide her nervousness, "I have things to do, Aldred. Please come to me when you have real results, not wild theories."

He stood, accepting the dismissal, "Yes Ma'am."

Seconds after her was gone, she was on the phone, "If anyone calls upon the house, you're not there. Understand? Don't answer, don't make a sound. I'll be home as soon as I can."

She packed up the unfinished paperwork into a bag, which she slung over her shoulder, then exited the office.

When she walked through the door of her home, she was glad to find the lights off. The faint smell of their breakfast lingered in the air, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest anyone had been home all day. She climbed the stairs.

"Hello?" she called. She found Artos and the kids in her bedroom.

"Anything?" she asked, setting down her stuff before lifting Prim into her arms.

Artos shook his head, "No one's come by. What happened?"

She explained the meeting with the peacekeeper.

"We'll go," he said when she'd finished, "We'll leave once its dark."

"I know the patrols," she told him, "If you leave here at 9:30, you should be in the clear."

"Ok," he said gratefully, "I'm sorry, Pya."

She nodded, sitting upon the bed, still holding onto Prim, "We knew it was coming."

She glanced over at Katniss who lay on the floor beside Peeta, amidst a mountain of coloring books and markers, completely oblivious to what was going on around them.

As Prim began to snooze in her arms, Pya lay back onto the bed and closed her eyes.

She hated the thought of sending them into snowy night, but they were out of options. Aldred was dedicated to his position. He was smart, thorough and would take his job very seriously by following every possible lead, meaning that he would come looking for Artos.

The Mellarks would have to go if she was going to protect her girls and the sooner the better.

* * *

_**Thanks for reading. You may find me on tumlbr if you wish: wakebytheriver**_


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